The Gift Called Present
by The Tox
Summary: Standing in the falling snow, Eren and Armin exchange their Christmas presents. Eremin, Christmas fluff, Modern AU.


Wrapped in blue and green, with a curled silver ribbon to keep the package together, Armin was flushed red when he held out the present. At Eren's mention of his blushing, he blamed the cold weather.

Snow fell lightly, without aid of wind, a gentle sort of descent around them. They were standing by a park bench near a playground for toddlers, commonly occupied by tired mothers dropping of their children and talking amongst each other, or the modern fathers not plagued by silly gender roles. At midnight on Christmas Eve, it was empty same as the playground, with the exception of the two warmly clad teenagers.

Armin was wearing his dark blue coat, the one where two buttons had fallen off and disappeared, so that he'd had to mend it with new, mismatching ones. The lower part of his face was covered by a pulled up scarf, striped purple and blue, a keepsake of his grandmother's, and atop his head sat a matching hat. His hands were covered in his most pricy possession save for the laptop resting atop his bed settee back home; brown leather gloves fitting perfectly, a gift from last Christmas.

Across from him stood Eren, a contrast in most ways this winter night, clad in all black, save for a luminous tag his adoptive sister had secretly sewn to his coat arm, to keep him safe on the dark streets. Similar to Armin, he was holding out a gift which he had wrapped on his own, in the colours red, white and green.. The name tag wishing Armin a Merry Christmas contained a jotted handwriting in red ink, and a drawn heart which had been attempted to be erased with black.

They traded presents with smiles hidden partly by scarves, when Armin's wristwatch and Eren's smartphone agreed that it was properly midnight; and now the 25th December.

"You go first," Eren insisted, and he blamed the cold too, when his cheeks turned red.

Methodically, Armin took off one glove after the other, and placed them in his pocket. He brought down the scarf to under his chin, so his mouth could be seen, as a timid smile danced upon his features. The street lamp illuminating the falling snow and the white cover over the ground did similar wonders to his face, right then, and Eren felt his heart skip a beat when they locked eyes, and Armin bashfully looked down at the present in his hands instead.

"It's nothing big," Eren mumbled when Armin started to open it. As careful as he was with any task, Armin pulled off the ribbon with precision, and slowly removed every piece of tape, as if though he intended to save the wrapping paper. Once he had done this, he finally unfolded the wrapping paper, to show the rectangular shoebox inside.

The box had once contained the boots Eren was wearing to fight snow, and was large, and filled with something new.

A childhood with a small, lower middle-class family had humbled Armin's attitude towards presents, and he never expected anything amazing. Over the years however, Eren had learnt that even extravagant gifts were no goods, only leaving Armin feeling inadequate to repay him. He was a tricky person to buy for, but Eren didn't ever turn down the challenge.

Opening the box, Armin found a bag of green tea on the top, a pocket book which he had expressed interest in during a visit to the local bookstore under it, and a bottle of hand lotion for his chapped fingers. Like he had done with the paper, he put them items in the plastic bag he had brought Eren's gift in.

Upon searching the box, Armin easily spotted the hidden layer under these gifts, and he felt how the box was heavier than the items he had found would imply, but since Eren hadn't mentioned it, he assumed it was planned as a surprise. He would always indulge Eren with that satisfaction, so he played unaware.

"Thank you Eren," he smiled gently. "These are really great presents."

"I'm just glad I didn't get a negative reaction," Eren said. "Oh, and the tube is hand lotion," he claimed at no provocation at all. Looking to the side, the redness creeping up his cheeks, he added: "I hope you don't get the wrong idea… I know we talked about waiting, and really, I just bought it because of your hands…"

Armin brought up the scarf to cover his blush at the boldness, and into the knitted fabric he groaned, "Eren, I realized that," though the words made him reconsider his initial assumption, and the cold weather got a bit hotter.

To distract, they decided to open Eren's present, and he did so by dropping his black gloves and tearing up the wrapping paper with a child's gleeful attitude, letting the litter fall to the ground with the snow. Once the present was revealed, he took a moment to stare at it; the large, square book with leather straps holding it together, and an old, hemp fabric with postal prints covering the carton front and back. On the middle of the cover, with an old typewriter's font, "Photos" was printed.

Armin nervously stepped up to Eren, standing by his side, as he opened the book. On the inner page, Armin had written their names in script, and on the next page, a picture of Eren and Armin, on their joint vacation to the Canary Islands – when Armin had been allowed to go with Eren's family at the age of eight – was glued on. Next to it, the date and place was written, and the rest of the book contained page upon page with countless of space for more.

With anyone else, it would feel presumptuous and abhorrently arrogant to give such a present. But with Eren, there were no doubts on Armin's mind in claiming that they would be together for long enough to cover each page with pictures detailing their travels.

"Armin," Eren breathed out, when he had flipped through each page, and then turned back to the first, to stare at the image of them together. It was a picture on the beach, with Mikasa picking seashells in the back, as Armin and Eren had attempted to build a sandcastle fancy enough for a prince. "This is awesome."

"Photo albums seem to be dying out though," Armin commented, but before his pessimism was even out of his mouth Eren grabbed his head, and turned them face to face.

"So? We'll keep ours alive," he declared, and before Armin could voice a protest, his scarf was pulled down and he was kissed silly. The snowflakes melted as they landed on his hot cheeks, as he had to turn upwards to meet Eren's lips, and he didn't quite notice.

Since a month ago, when a confession had led to their first kiss and a first kiss had led to a first date and a first date had led to boyfriend-status, this was a common occurrence. Eren believed he could kiss away Armin's doubt, and Armin didn't mind him trying. Their lips were dry as anyone used to kissing and cold, but their tongues were wet and eager. The minutes ticked on as they paused only for seconds to breathe white smoke into the air, between kissing and lavishing affection, until Armin barely dropped the present given from Eren, and was reminded of the hidden layer.

When he pulled apart, Eren realized it too, after being given enough time to remember what living was like when he was not kissing Armin. He looked at the shoebox meaningfully.

"There is more to the gift I gave," he said, and while balancing the photo album under his left arm he pointed at the bottom of the box.

He grinned when Armin's eyes widened in surprise and anticipation, and looked on when Armin pried the carton layer open. Under it was a plastic see-through box, and through its lid, Armin saw balls of different sized chocolate.

"And by more, I mean homemade chocolate…"

"Eren, you made these?" Armin said, with a startled expression. "But you can't…"

Looking to the side, Eren grumbled; "I know I can't bake, it took me hours and a lot of tutoring from a certain sister to get enough to fill the box… And you haven't tried it yet, so there's no guarantee that it's good."

But there were never sweets at Armin's house, and he had loved the chocolate Mikasa made one year for Christmas, and they both knew that it was a personal gift, rather than standard.

"I'm sure it is. Thank you so much," Armin said sincerely, as his impossibly blue eyes revealed.

They kissed again and expressed their gratitude with the kisses of newlyweds, even though they were fifteen and first boyfriends. Soon Armin's grandfather would wonder why he wasn't back yet and call to interrupt them, if Eren's father didn't beat him to it, but they risked getting scolded on Christmas to stay together for a bit longer.

Early in the morning, Eren would leave with his family to spend Christmas with a distant relative far away from Armin. He should go home and sleep, and save his strength for the day with family, but he didn't want to.

Sometime around afternoon, Armin would be alone with his grandfather as always, and enjoy his favourite dish, a present or two – always books and always what he hoped for – and peace and quiet with just the two of them. But for the night, he also had a Skype date planned with Eren this year, if Eren's family allowed for him to slip away.

Both were none too eager to go home to that just yet, when they could stay like this. Even without kissing, the solitude of their night offered so much, and when Armin went to pick up Eren's litter and throw away the paper in a nearby trashcan, Eren threw a snowball at his back.

Just like that, they were children again, and they left all presents in the safety of Armin's plastic bag on the park bench, to chase each other tamely armed with snowballs. Occasionally Eren had to slow down to allow for Armin's to make contact, and occasionally he would miss his throws for Armin's sake, but they were none too serious with their playing, merely dragging out the time. They made snow angels at Eren's suggestion, though Armin was unsure of the idea of lying down on the snow in his lousy jeans, until Eren rolled to his side and pinned him to the ground to kiss him again, and make them forget about the winter wonderland they were in.

Time slipped past them without a care in the world, but tiredness never truly came, when they were so easily distracted by each other. Armin noticed and didn't say a word when the snowfall started to be heavier, and still no call came from home.

They stayed and played until the storm started to pick up, and they could barely see each other through the shower of snowflakes. It became inevitable that they leave, so Eren dug through the snow to reach the bag. With a glove free left hand to Armin's glove free right, they grasped each other tightly, two chapped hands in need of lotion fitting together.

Eren noticed the bags under Armin's eyes, so he steered them towards the Arlert household of two, holding on for as long as he could. In every house they passed the Christmas décor shone brightly, and through windows they spotted decorated trees in all styles and fashions. The season, as always in winter, was unmistakable.

Without thinking, they took a detour, and didn't say a word to each other. The cold was fended off by hand holding, until Armin's cellphone called from his inner pocket, and they were reminded of their need to split up.

After a hasty phone call with his grandfather, they went back on course towards his home, and soon reached the terrace house where he lived. They stayed by the door for the kisses which glued them together, without a mistletoe in sight to blame.

"Merry Christmas Eren," Armin said when they decided to finally part, and he had dug up the shoebox from the bag. "We'll talk later, right?"

"Of course," Eren smiled, and he pressed a quick peck at Armin's cheek in a display of control over his impulses. "Merry Christmas to you too."

With a box filled with odd items and homemade chocolate, and with a beautiful photo album, they split up as Armin got inside, and Eren departed for home. Eren still had heaps for presents to look forward to, and a wonderful dinner and jovial atmosphere with once-removed cousins and relatives, but the best of Christmas was already behind him. He was smiling all the way home, still tasting Armin in his mouth, happy and delirious with love. And wasn't that what Christmas was all about?


End file.
